


The A-Scream

by curiouslyblessed



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, monster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslyblessed/pseuds/curiouslyblessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by my somewhat twisted mind. My idea of what supernatural creatures the team would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @rynnwolfe of tumblr for asking me about my au because I wouldn't have written it otherwise.

He sat in the hotel's lounge and watched the people passing by. A woman hurried past, a large hat tilted at a rakish angle over her jet-black hair. Hannibal Smith felt a twinge of nostalgia, remembering a long-dead romance. He took a sip of his whiskey and puffed on his cigar. He was no longer a young man and these days he felt it. Even his unique abilities weren't staving off the hands of time.

Hannibal glanced at the mirror above the bar and frowned. He wasn't what he used to be, that was certain. Middle-age was catching up with him on every front. He glanced down at his ever-expanding middle. Every front, indeed.

He sighed. It was definitely time to get his head out of the clouds and get back to work. He rose from his chair and made his way to the bathroom.

The cold white tiles shone in the harsh fluorescent light. He checked each stall before standing in front of the mirror. Hannibal surveyed the aspects of himself that he'd have to change. The stomach would have to go. As much as he liked to kid himself, their mark wasn't the kind of girl who liked her men soft around the middle. He snapped his fingers and the excess weight around his middle disappeared.

He first discovered his ability to change his appearance as a much younger man. It started slowly. He would audition for a part and suddenly his eyes would be the right color or his face would take on a certain cast completely unlike his own.

He returned his attention to the mirror. He needed to fix his hair, it wouldn't do him any good to be a silver fox with this girl. Oh, no, she liked her men young, dumb, and blond. He snapped his fingers again and his hair made the appropriate change.

Over the years, his abilities grew until he could change himself into almost anyone else. Man, woman, and child--no one was inaccessible to the great Hannibal Smith.

The mirror beckoned, painting his wrinkles in a certain light. They simply wouldn't do, they looked out of place on a trim young man with blond hair. He snapped his fingers a third time and his face contorted into a picture of what it had been at twenty-five. In fact, most of his body was now almost identical to how it had been at twenty-five.

He smiled at himself in the mirror. All that was left was to change into the clothes Face had lent him for the occasion. He would leave the bathroom and track down the mark with the effortless grace of a man half his actual age. "I love it," he lit a new cigar. "When a plan comes together."


	2. Face

"Mesmerism is the easiest of my powers," he breathed in the scent of the young woman's blood. O-negative. It was a common type, but delicious nonetheless. "After that, it's turning into a bat, turning into mist, and controlling the thoughts of animals. Those are all terribly difficult," he brushed her hair back from her neck. "But I've mastered them completely."

He leaned forward and placed his lips on her throat. Someone cleared their throat behind him. Face turned. Murdock and BA stood just to his left. Murdock gave a little finger wave and BA growled.

"What?!" he hissed at them.

"Hannibal wants us," BA frowned at Face's "dinner" companion. "Isn't she a little... young?"

"No," Face snapped his fingers. "Oh, Felicia, my friends need me. If you would just excuse us?"

She blinked her wide, brown eyes. "Sure thing, Templeton."

Murdock watched her go. "I wonder if she knows that you can't really turn into a bat. Or mist. Or influence the minds of animals."

"She didn't hear any of that," Face carefully sheathed his fangs. "She was so far under that for all she knows I proposed tonight."

"Well, did you," Murdock grinned and scratched behind his ears. "I'd like to know what you want for a weddin' gift."

"I didn't. And you should be scratching for at least another two days, what's wrong with you?"

Murdock shrugged. "It's early this month. Why don'cha cool it, Face-man."

BA interrupted Face's biting comeback. "Hannibal is waiting for us at the hotel. You two can argue later."

Face's flexed his claws. "Right."

It had been years since he got into a real fight with a wolf. The last time was just before the start of WWI. He was in a bar in Small Town, USA. The guy insulted his hair and one thing led to another and the fur just started flying. He straightened his tie at the thought. So untidy. His fangs ached at the thought.

He was a lover, not a fighter. It was his prowess in that area that got him into his little "situation" in the first place. There was a girl. (Wasn't there always?) Unfortunately, this girl had a biting fetish. A real killer one. He smirked at his own little joke, but the smile quickly faded as he remembered how she'd stripped him down to his altogether. How she'd sunk her fangs into his exposed skin and left him bleeding to death in that stinking little hotel room.

Luck was on his side that night and her name was Mary Lee. Mary was a chamber maid and a sanguinarian. She came into the room that night with a mind to clean it and ended up saving his sorry life in the process. He never forgot her. He bought her a diamond once and sent it to the little hotel. She sent it back with a letter politely refusing the gift. "Save it for someone with more elegant than I, Templeton," she wrote. "Someone who's neck is better suited to precious stones."

He sent it back to her again with his own note. "There isn't another girl in the world who's neck is more suited to precious stones."

Over the years, the visited each other occasionally. He would stop in and they would share a pint of vintage AB-negative. Until Vietnam. He visited the hotel one last time before he shipped out. Mary Lee was still that, but not for long.

"I'm leaving this place," she said, the slightest tinge of sorrow in her voice. "I've been found out and it's no longer safe for me here."

Face frowned. "Where will you go? How will I find you?"

"I don't know," she breathed. "I honestly don't."

He sat heavily on the bed. "Will we ever see each other again?"

She smiled. "In our memories, certainly. In our dreams, maybe," she kissed his forehead. "In reality... who knows?"

"Hey, Face."

He snapped back to the present. "What?"

"I dunno," Murdock shrugged. "Sometimes I just wanna know what's runnin' through that head 'a yours."

Face smiled. "Oh, this and that. Mostly Lady Luck."

"So, luck's a lady then."

"Yes, and her name is Mary Lee."


	3. Murdock

It first started when he was a kid. He was ten years old on his grandparent's farm and he felt it behind his ears. It itched. It felt like his skin was coming undone. He wriggled and squirmed and pulled at his ears. His grandfather watched him with some amusement.

"What's the trouble, son?"

"My ears itch something awful! They never itched like this b'fore," he clawed behind his ears. "Make it stop, gran'pa!"

The old man frowned. "Athena," he called, turning to the house. "Could y' come out here?"

She appeared at the door. "What is it, George?"

He stood and picked up his grandson. "The boy's havin' trouble with his ears."

Even at that tender age, Murdock knew significant words when he heard them. There was something about the way that his grandfather told his grandmother that his ears itched that said more than the words themselves. "What does it mean," he asked, still grasping his left ear. "What's happening to me?"

Athena Murdock laid a hand on his shoulder. "Darlin', it's time for you to learn about your family heritage."

George sighed. "I had hoped it would be a few more years before we had to deal with this," he sat back down with Murdock in his lap. "HM, our family isn't like other families. For as long as we Murdocks can remember, we've been wolves."

Murdock looked up at his grandfather and then his grandmother. "But that doesn't make any sense. We're people."

"Lots of things in the world don't make sense," his grandfather patted his head. "Science tries to understand them. But science can't solve everything. That's why some things are considered," he paused, looking for the right words so the child would understand. "Outside of science. Like boogey men and... wolves who are people."

"But you can't be a wolf and a person! It's not possible."

"But it is, dove," Athena placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes glowing gold and her teeth lengthening into fangs. "We're both."


	4. BA

Her name was Miriam. She was the first thing he remembered. Her hands sculpted him from the richest of terracotta clays. It was her writing on the scroll sewed into his arm. Her own blood that inscribed the _emet_ on the scroll. She was his beginning and the moment she wished it, she would also be his end.

"Rise," she said, the husky tones of a voice accustomed to speaking Hebrew rang out into the empty room.

He stood, awaiting her orders.

"Listen to me, I have made you for one reason. There is much pain in the world. It has taken my," she paused, tears running from her eyes. "My Yosef from me. I am going to send you to the fighting--to Vietnam. There you will find the men who killed my Yosef and you will take revenge."

She laid a hand on his chest. "These are your papers. Study them and memorize them completely. Your name is Bosco Albert Baracus and you are an American GI."

He took the folder from her hands. He scanned the pages, absorbing his new life.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," his first words felt strange. They tickled his lips as they left his mouth.

"Good," she drew an object from her pocket. It was a gaudy piece of jewelry in the shape of a Star of David. "Wear this," she slipped it around his neck. "May it always see you in good health."

He grasped her hands. "You can bet on it."

Vietnam was a hot, miserable place. He kept expecting pieces of clay to melt off of his body and betray his secret to his fellow soldiers. It never happened.

He got his opportunity for Miriam's revenge only a week after he arrived. The US Army, in its wisdom, placed him an elite team of Rangers. An A-team, they called it. He and this A-team were stationed deep in the jungle. They ferreted out Vietcong soldiers left and right until the day came when BA saw the man he was meant to destroy.

The man was a colonel. BA never knew his name, he never cared to even ask. One bullet to the chest and two to the head took care of Miriam's revenge once and for all.

He stood in the middle of the clearing, bullets whizzing around his head, waiting to return to the clay he'd been made of. Nothing happened. Until, that is, someone smashed into his back and knocked him to the ground.

"What're you doing?!" a voice screamed into his left ear. "You'll be shot!"

BA was still registering the shock of still being alive when the person flipped him over onto his back and slapped his face. "Are you listen to me, sergeant?"

It was his colonel--a fellow named Jones or something. He frowned when the colonel slapped him again.

"Answer me, sergeant!"

"I'm not supposed to be alive," he mumbled. "I finished my job."

The colonel sighed. "We all feel like that sometimes. What's your name, son?"

"BA Baracus," he sat up and held his head in his hands.

"Well, BA Baracus, my name is Hannibal Smith. Welcome to the A-team."


End file.
